Dorcas Meadows had not even lived a quarter century of her life, yet here she was, facing Voldemort and knowing that she was about to die. The knowing made it better, in her opinion. The biting, icy fear that had consumed her not but a minute ago had already begun to fade; in its place a numbing rush of acceptance.
Tonight, Dorcas Meadows was going to die. She was going to be the second Order victim to fall to Voldemort and the Death Eaters, right after Marlie, dear Marlie. Dorcas stood tall and taut, staring at the Dark Lord straight in the eye, hoping against hope that her little cousin would make it out alive.
Was she stupid? Dumb, perhaps, running to face death when she knew that the Order had come in to rescue her?
Yes. But she also knew, with great certainty, that if she hadn't come between Voldemort and James, Lily would have been a widow and their child - their little boy - would have been without a father. Dorcas would never have that chance. Not with Derek, dear Derek, her beautiful Hit Wizard, the love of her life; their wedding, they hadn't even planned it, she had just been too happy that he had proposed to her, and now they would never...
They loved each other, she loved him so much, and the fact that they... that they would never...
She was consumed with a sudden urge to sob, but she knew that she couldn't, nay, she would not in front of him.
A full moment of silence passed since Voldemort spoke, and she took a deep breath, knowing that it would be the last full breath she would take. She was doing this for the Order, she was doing this for Derek, she was doing this for Marlie, she was doing this for James, she was doing this for James and Lily's little boy, and she was doing this to fight the good fight.
She took a swift glance behind her back. James had been flung somewhere out of sight. Good.
"Let's just get this over with, huh?" she said, struggling to make her voice cool and scornful, her mouth curling in a sneer. Only her eyes could betray her mask of aggression; they stung with unshed tears. She raised her wand swiftly, knowing that the motion would be utterly futile.
Goodbye.
(Read comments)
Post a comment in response:
scribbld is part of the horse.13 network
Design by Jimmy B.
Logo created by 
hitsuzen.
Scribbld System Status
